


All Things Will Kill You

by Walkerbaby



Series: All Things Will Kill You [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Adultery, Animal Death, Body Shaming, Character Death, F/M, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mentions of offscreen torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Power Dynamics, Verbal Abuse (past), Violence, War, past dubious consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-08-17 08:55:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8138051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walkerbaby/pseuds/Walkerbaby
Summary: Alexander Hamilton joined the army to find glory in battle. So how exactly to he end up falling in love with his commanding officer? And what's he supposed to do when his older lover boots him into a tent with another aide who isn't afraid to let Alexander know that George Washington isn't the only one that finds him desirable? Or when Lady Washington keeps sending him to have tea  with the Schuyler sisters -- who's chaperones are apparently never where they're supposed to be?  And at this point? If he makes it out of this war without his own lovers shooting him in the back he'll be lucky. And the British -- they're just going to have to wait in line.  Canon Time period.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Find what you love and let it kill you.  
> Let it drain you of your all. Let it cling onto your back and weigh you down into eventual nothingness.  
> Let it kill you and let it devour your remains.  
> For all things will kill you, both slowly and fastly, but it’s much better to be killed by a lover.  
> ~ Falsely yours”  
> ― Charles Bukowski

He was willing to sacrifice Lord Stirling to the British for one night’s solid sleep, George decided as he began his tour of their newest encampment at Harlem Heights. Even though, logically, _he liked Stirling_ , right now he’s ready to hand the man over to Gage for just one night’s solid sleep back home at Mount Vernon, in his own bed. He’d even be willing to have Martha and her snoring like a distempered mule beside him. That was how much he missed his own bed.

“You see Your Excellency,” Lord Sterling’s high, piggy snort of a voice grated against his nerves and George’s hand clenched into a tight fist inside the leather riding gloves he hadn’t had time to remove before their impromptu tour of the camp. He’d been here less than five minutes before the massive quivering pile of flesh that was Stirling had come rolling toward him, shouting directions to his men. _His men._ As if Stirling somehow had the right to order them around because of a dubious claim to a title for a country they were trying to break away from. A claim that if he’d have dared press in London would have found him in Newgate. Unlike the easily swayed colonials of Upper New York, in London the British didn’t take well to trumped up peacocks from Stirling’s side of the blanket—

  
“Not that way you fools!” A sharp voice pulled him from his vague fantasies of selling Stirling to the British for the other man’s weight in salt pork and he froze. “In the name of all that’s holy—”

George watched as a boy in rough brown trousers scrambled up the side of one of the earthen work barricades and pulled a rope from another man’s hands. “Do you want to crush the men on the ground?” The boy, who barely came to the other man’s shoulder snapped.

He watched as the boy re-secured the rope to the tackle it was worked around and then leaned over the side, motioning to the men beneath him. Another man joined him on the ropes and George’s throat went dry as the boy shifted his weight, the muscles in his thin shoulders apparent even from a distance. The boy’s dark hair had come loose in the back and George watched as, annoyed, the boy pushed it out of his eyes and then began to pull at the ropes.

“Who…” He sounded like he was croaking.

“As I was saying it’s my considered opinion is that if we were to attack Manhattan directly then it’s likely that we could take the British by surprise and—” Stirling continued.

“Who is that?” George managed to finally mutter as the cannon the boy was helping to hoist onto their barricades finally broke the edge of the wall line.

“Your Excellency?” Stirling sounded confused. “Who are you asking about?”

“The boy.” George stared at the other man, annoyed. “He barely looks old enough to be a piper and yet he’s browbeating men twice his size.”

“Ahhh.” He heard Greene exclaim from the other side of Stirling and turned to narrow his eyes at the other man.

Greene gave him a smug smile in return. “That would be our resident boy genius. Alexander Hamilton.”

“A jumped up creole bastard,” Stirling muttered. “The son of a camp-girl. Mulatto of course.”

He raised an eyebrow at Stirling and waited for the man to realize his obvious mistake.

“Captain Hamilton,” Greene interjected, “heads one of the New York Artillery Companies. He and his men took part in the action against the British when they bombarded the city. We’d not be alive without them. They held the line at the Battery to give the rest of us the chance to retreat.”

“And he’ll not let any of the rest of us forget it,” Stirling muttered. “Constantly haranguing us with his _‘expert’_ opinion of military matters.”

“Unlike Stirling, Hamilton believes that the British will choose to stay inside the confines of the city until the end of winter. That they’ve dug in and have prepared for a siege. That we should do the same.”

“And as I’ve said, the Congress wants us to attack forthwith and—”

“And what is your opinion on the boy?” He ignored Stirling and focused on Greene instead.

“That if you call him boy to his face there’s a very good chance we’ll be trying him for attempting to murder the Head of the Continental Army. He’s prickly about his honor, that one. In his own mind he’s seven foot tall.”

“An immigrant,” Stirling sneered. “West Indian bastard.”

George raised an eyebrow at Greene.

“Hamilton’s from the islands, true enough. Bilingual. Fluent in French. Has a head for trade and numbers. He clerked for Beekman and Cruger on St. Croix and they sent him to the mainland for an education. As far as his parents…” Greene trailed off. “The boy doesn’t speak of his home or his family. Not that any of his men would care if his mother was Polly Roundheel herself. He’s a brilliant tactician. His men are strangely loyal as well. He’s the youngest of them all but they take command from the boy as if he were Wellington himself.”

“A baseborn—”

“That will be all Stirling,” George said, his voice colder than he’d like. He’d need to be careful to keep the man from realizing how much he annoyed George. He needed to keep his Generals close and not isolate them. And besides, before this campaign had started he had once liked Stirling.

The other man gave him a stiff nod and turning on his heel to march away, his weak chin tilted toward the sky.

He turned to Greene once Stirling was out of hearing range. “Does the boy write a fair hand?”

“He was a clerk,” Greene retorted. “He writes a beautiful hand. But he’s not inclined to join a staff. I’ve already tried to induce him to join my own. So has Henry Knox.”

“And?”

“He may have suggested that I contort my body in ways that are physically impossible so that I could do a visual inspection of my own intestines. I heard he suggested something similar to Knox.”

George raised an eyebrow in surprise.

The boy was a prickly one. Mouthy. He felt heat coiling in his stomach at the thought. He’d always had a weakness for the mouthy ones.

His cock twitched as he stared at the boy, now collected in a knot with other men, consulting on something below them on the ground. It had been a long time since he’d taken a paramour. Romanced a boy that he might see more than once.

He’d always tried to keep his temptations under control. A quick visit to one of the houses in Williamsburg when he was in town to sit in the House of Burgess. An assignation with a handsome groom with a trim waist and well muscled thighs in the hayloft of a livery stable. _Quick. Anonymous. Discreet._

What he wanted was common enough between soldiers but still illegal. An unnatural act. Something that would find him standing on a gibbet with a noose around his neck as people pointed and stared, screaming for his blood. His property forfeit. Martha shamed, not just in Virginia but throughout the world, given the current situation that he found himself in.

Worse, the Congress would turn him over to the British and let them try him for treason instead of the shame of trying their own general for buggering one of his soldiers. He’d find himself in London, watching as the King’s executioner removed his guts and showed them to the crowd. His manhood. Removed his heart.  And only then, after he’d been disgraced would they cut off his head and place it on a pike.

“He’ll not want to leave his men,” Greene’s voice cut into his thoughts. “He intends to seek glory on the battlefield and he’ll not be content as a secretary.”

“As your secretary perhaps,” George answered as the boy shifted his weight and his trousers cupped his arse in a way that left nothing to the imagination. “But there are advantages to being the boy who takes my correspondence. Connections that can be made that will turn out to be useful once this conflict is over and the British leave our shores.”

“If we lose it’ll put his name on a list for execution. You know as well as I do staff officers will find themselves facing the noose just as we do. There’ll be no escape for these boys.”

“If the British win, there’ll be no hope for any of us. If he’s on my staff the chances of losing your boy genius are much slimmer. And if he’s as smart as you say…” George trailed off.

“It’d be a shame to watch him die shit scared and bleeding in a trench,” Greene agreed. “But on your staff…”

“There’s a bright future for a clever boy. If we win,” George answered as he took one last long look at the boy. His boy soon enough. “Arrange to have him sent to my quarters after dinner. By then I’ll have his transfer arranged.”

“Without asking him first?”

“When have we ever asked soldiers what they wanted?” George asked. “They’re soldiers, they do as their officers command. And I’ve commanded that you arrange for the boy to report to my quarters after dinner, I’ll send Billy Lee to collect his things and have them delivered to his new billet. And you’ll make sure his men are given a suitable replacement as a commander. They shouldn’t be made to suffer for their captain’s brilliance.”

“As you say Sir,” Greene said, nodding briskly, not meeting his eyes.

“Just so.” George stared at the other man. “If you’ll excuse me Greene, it’s been a long ride and I need to make sure that my headquarters have been setup adequately. I’ll leave you now to finish checking the perimeter on your own. You hardly need me to show you how to do a job you’re already excellent at.”

“Sir.” Greene’s voice was low and George thought slightly disapproving. As if he knew what George wanted from the boy and didn’t entirely approve. Not that Greene would ever have the audacity to accuse him of such a thing on just suspicions.  
And it wasn’t as if George actually cared what his subordinates thought. Not when it came to what he did inside his own headquarters. Or his private chambers.


	2. The Special Edition is Live!

The entire story original story  
11 previously posted one shots  
4 pieces of original fan art by @aidennestorm  
2 never before seen one shots that won't be published anywhere else (an epilogue to the main story and an alternative ending

 

Click [here](https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B3RybB3EUsayaWFJMzRFa1J6c0E/view) for the EPUB (kobo, nook, ibooks)

Click [here](https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B3RybB3EUsayMXhfdlZac1N6Rnc/view) for the MOBI (kindle)

Click [here](https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B3RybB3EUsayTmJBN2lfTUFHQVE/view) for the PDF


End file.
